Yesterday morning I used a toothpick to clean the gookie out from under my toenails since I left my clippers and file at work. After the dredging ceased I thought threw the crusty bugger in the trash.
You know how it feels when you're about to enter REM? The peaceful sinking into the bed, every thing's right with the world, let me just slide my arm under my pillow like...OH SWEET MOTHER FUCKING GODDAMN MOTHER FUCK WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS THAT? SHIT, I'VE GOT A TOOTHPICK JAMMED UNDER MY FINGER NAIL! AHHHHHH! OH FUCKING SHIT THAT FUCKING HURTS!
Do you know what hurts more than getting one stuck an eighth-inch deep under your nail? Pulling the damned thing back out!
I don't understand this. While I was drinking and playing around bees, saws, an axe, and a sledge hammer- nothing. But I get hurt when I go to bed? Royally fuck that.
I got out of bed, put my finger on ice and had another beer down in the shop, where I knew I was safe.
2 comments:
ouch. just be glad you didn't SIT on your pillow.
Too bad you didn't find the toothpick in your pocket after a steak dinner. Mmmm. Yummy!
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